


Until Tomorrow (part II)

by unnbrella



Series: Until Tomorrow [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Mentions of Rape, Sequel, its pretty dark i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26427610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unnbrella/pseuds/unnbrella
Summary: In another sort of lifetime, she would’ve asked him to sing for her. The guitar helped too. But Luke knows what she sees in her dreams are far less simple than the mere fear of the undead. Clementine doesn’t need to tell him that either. Still, he misses when she’d ask.
Relationships: Clementine & Luke (Walking Dead: All That Remains)
Series: Until Tomorrow [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1920949
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Until Tomorrow (part II)

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo I’ve always had a vision for this sequel ever since I wrote the first one all those years ago, and I wrote this chapter a while ago so I’m finally deciding to publish it so at least I’m not the only one reading it anymore. (and if you haven’t read Until Tomorrow part I, you probably should so that this will make more sense!) I’m also trying out a different writing style with this one because the overall tone in this sequel will be quite different than the first one.

All she sees is red.

Her hands. His corpse. There’s no difference between the two. Her mind is such a haze that she’s not even sure which one came before the other or how the two could be related but she’s watching the blood drip down her forearms like rain and she can’t comprehend how she ended up on the ground in the first place.

_“They’d look great on you.”_

“Don’t fuckin’ touch her, you sick son of a bitch!”

_“Yeah, well, I know what you’re thinkin’,” Luke strolls towards her through one of the aisles. “Believe it or not, I ain’t ever owned a pair of those in my life.”_

The sound of Luke’s voice makes her knees tremble, but she realizes she’s already fallen. Her mind is racing, her heart is pounding and her eyes can hardly see through the haze as she wobbles on all fours with her face somehow so close to the burning floor.

_“You know, I really like the whole ‘rodeo cowboy’ kind of look. It fits you well,” she teases with a smug grin._

_“Oh, yeah? You sure you ain’t just jealous of my awesome hat?”_

Someone’s touching her. A rough hand clamped over her mouth, another clasping arms, painfully forced to intertwine behind her back. There’s a weight on her head and she can’t bring herself to move.

“You still wanna keep quiet, princess? Or am I gonna have to shut you up?”

_“Hey!” she laughs, reaching for her hat. Luke holds it above him as she desperately tries to jump for it, even though she’s only half his height. He heavily plops his cowboy hat onto her head instead, the front of it completely covering her eyes._

The crackling flames burn her skin.

“Hey. Hey… I got you.” She hears Luke’s voice again, soft and gentle. The tone of it is so far from the hands that restrain her. “It’s okay. Hey… stop. It’s okay.”

As the tears begin to pour from her eyes, she finds little comfort in something that usually eases her.

_“Luke!” Clementine exclaims as she reaches the top of the grassy hill, and the orange light of the evening sun suddenly cascades down on her. “Luke, look. Do you see it?” she asks, pointing excitedly in the distance._

“Luke…” she sobs his name, over and over, but she’s convinced he can’t hear. “Make it stop.”

_“I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” he calls to her while raising a hand in the air. “You know I’m not as young as you are, right?”_

“What’s the matter? You ain’t ever seen a dead guy before?”

The sound of a blade hacking through flesh pierces her eardrums. It drowns out the noise of a little girl’s laugh. It’s as if she’s watching herself do it from afar, crying and shouting all at once, and she can’t bring herself to stop. She just keeps hacking as if the motion itself is a broken record. Blood sprays in her eyes, her nose, her mouth… suffocating her. Over and over and over again.

“Clementine…” It’s Luke again, but the different voices only act as fuel to her rage.

_“Here,” Luke reaches a hand out to her, and Clementine hesitantly accepts the soft blades of grass. Luke steps around to the front of the pony, and his hand is delicately placed between the animal’s ears. “Just… hold your hand out like this.”_

“They fuckin’ raped her, do you hear me?!”

Over and over.

“Those bastards ain’t even comin’ back from the dead!

Over and over… and over…

“Your piece of shit brother got what he deserved, and you better rot in hell with ‘em, you son of a bitch!”

Finally, she screams.

When Clementine opens her eyes, everything is quiet again. Nothing except the sound of her panting, trembling breaths. She blinks the tears away, focusing on the darkness of the room. It takes her a moment to register that she’d somehow sat up in bed, and she remembers that she’s safe.

Clementine isn’t certain how long she sits there for, but she waits until her heartrate has slowed enough and the tears are mostly dry from her cheeks.

Shivering, she grabs her red flannel from the wooden floor and slides her arms into it. It nearly reaches her knees. She leaves the bedroom through the back door, closing it without a sound.

The crisp night air envelopes her and she pulls the garment tighter around her chest, hugging herself for warmth. She gazes aimlessly into the abyss of the woods, beyond the wooden railings of the cabin’s porch. The forest floor is hidden by a thin layer of snow. The only light comes from the moon, it’s rays peering through the rustling trees overhead.

She breathes in the unmistakable smell of the beginning of winter, embracing the feeling of serenity for a while.

“It ain’t your shift yet, kid.”

She doesn’t turn at the sound of Luke’s voice. She knows the back porch connects to the front one. He would’ve found her here one way or another. He always does. Still, she lets him approach her from behind and mimic her in resting his arms over the railing, habitually rocking back and forth as if it’ll pass the time.

“Is it, uh… is it the nightmares again?” he murmurs after a while.

The images flash across her mind again. “Yeah.”

He nods faintly in understanding. It doesn’t come as a shock to him.

In another sort of lifetime, she would’ve asked him to sing for her. The guitar helped too. But Luke knows what she sees in her dreams are far less simple than the mere fear of the undead. Clementine doesn’t need to tell him that either. Still, he misses when she’d ask.

“In that case, keepin’ watch does seem better than sleepin’ right now,” he comments, more for the sake of conversation than anything. “Can’t get a damn wink with this cold.” A shiver trails up his spine from the mention of it and he digs his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“I don’t mind it,” adds Clementine, retrieving the lighter from the oversized pocket of her flannel. She effortlessly lights a cigarette between her teeth, a cloud of smoke escaping her lips.

Luke only eyes her from the side, but the girl continues to keep her gaze focused on what she’s doing. The silence almost becomes too uncomfortable to bare.

He runs his tongue across his teeth, debating if he should say anything at all. “You know I don’t like you smokin’.” He mumbles his words.

“You don’t like a lot of things.” Her voice is low, and she replies too quickly. Clementine continues to fiddle with the object in her hands as if she’s intentionally avoiding his eyes.

“I don’t like you adding somethin’ else to the list of things that’ll kill you,” corrects Luke. He feels as if he’s told her a thousand times. She shouldn’t need to be told anymore.

The girl still doesn’t look at him. Instead she returns the lighter to its rightful pocket and leaves her hand buried inside, handling the cigarette with the other. “Does it matter?” she says. “We’re gonna die anyway.”

Luke resists a scoff, turning his head away and pressing his lips together in agitation. The gesture is small, but it’s there nonetheless. Clementine can sense it without even seeing him.

It had felt like they may have been siblings once. Neither of them can remember a life without the other because it had been so long ago when they were both alone. They were family. And now, Luke finds it is sometimes too difficult to talk to her anymore. It seems as if he’s talking to a stranger most days. Sometimes the man is even convinced that they hate each other. It’s stupid.

Still, he can’t really blame her. Everything changed after that night. The memories that haunt Clementine’s sleep have left too many scars for either of them to handle. Clementine never spoke of things the same and she never gave anything the time of day anymore.

She’s closed off her heart to him - to everyone and everything, but Luke hears her when she sings. He sees her when she thinks that no one can and he wonders how she can say something like that with no emotion at all; no opinion on the harsh statement.

Clementine had never been the one to have so little faith in both of them. The implication that surviving no longer has a worth breaks Luke’s heart to pieces.

It hadn’t always been like that. The drift had happened slowly, like a lifeboat floating on a calm sea. Still, it’s been 4 weeks since they fled that camp and he thought things would be better by now, but Luke is beginning to wonder if they can ever go back to the way things were. Before _they_ changed her.

Despite it all, Clementine can _feel_ when she hurts him, and the words ‘I’m sorry’ linger on her tongue immediately after she speaks. The feeling is all too familiar. Still, she doesn’t try to take it back and she’s not certain why that is. Then Luke speaks before she can say anything else.

“You keep tellin’ yourself that,” he mutters with a sigh, defeated. The silence stretches between them for a while and neither of them know what to say anymore. “I’ll be out front. You just try and get some sleep, all right?” Luke leaves before she can respond, as if he doesn’t care to hear the answer.

Clementine lets her eyes fall closed for a moment, releasing a steady breath. Her heart clenches with regret, wondering why she continues to speak this way after forgetting what it was even for in the first place.

When she’s left alone without wanting to be, the night air suddenly feels so much colder on her skin. Clementine remains there with a blank mind for a while. Then the cold gets the better of her and she lets the cigarette fall between her bare feet.


End file.
